


For Now I Am Winter

by literallynoidea



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, alternatively titled: bucky gets a family, aou was a mess so I can't in good conscience inflict that type of pain on myself, not AOU compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:59:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5735824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallynoidea/pseuds/literallynoidea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a few weeks since the Soldier came across The Man on the Bridge and has since been in a spiral of uncertainty. He feels now, and he does not know how to handle it. In the midst of that, a recent memory of a HYDRA child experiment comes to the forefront of his mind. </p><p>Mission: Save the child. </p><p>Retrieving her is simple. After that, well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this idea has been bugging me for months and I just had to give it a shot. 
> 
> Warnings: 
> 
> mild reference to child abuse, sexual abuse, torture, typical Nazi racism :(

The first time he had seen her was during a mission to secure her transfer along with a dozen other little girls. She stood out, with dark skin along with patches of white dotted about. All the other girls were white.

 

They were collared and chained, most cried, some stared blankly ahead. She was the latter.

 

“You think they’ll let the little black bitch live?” asked a member of its team that it did not know.

 

It kept its eyes trained on the children, as that was its mission, but its ears could still hear. That word caused it to frown and it did not understand why. The mask covered its change of expression and saved it from discipline.

 

“Our orders were to raid the orphanage and kill the staff. What they do to the kids has nothing to do with us. If they want it, they can have it,” Rumlow answered.

 

“S’weird though. Look at its skin. Looks like a damn cow.”

 

There was a moment of silence and it was tempted to look and see why, but knew its orders and its gaze on the children. The child of interest stared directly into its goggles. Her gaze held a lot of weight for one so small.

 

“It’ll probably be used as a test before the test. Who cares? They always put materials to use.”

 

“Huh.”

 

It held the girl’s gaze though it doubted she could see its eyes. The van slowed to a stop and it watched as the children were led into a room beyond its clearance.

 

“Let’s go, Asset.”

 

It lingered, watching as the darker child was the last to turn the corner. A strike to the head caused it to stagger.

 

“I said let’s go!”

 

It obeyed.

 

~

 

 

The first time he had seen her—or maybe it was the second???—she was strapped to a table. Her screams drew its attention from where it shivered a drooled and peed on the tile while its Handlers hosed it off. They grabbed it by both arms and dragged it past her room. She turned her head to the side as she howled, and their eyes met. It held her gaze as he passed.

 

~

 

The first time he had seen her—or not, now he knew that the wiped memories did not come back in order—she’d been standing beside her Handler. The man placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

“The Bloodchild has continued to show marvelous results. I think it would be best if she started training with the Asset.”

 

“No,” its Handler replied.

 

It was kicked from where it kneeled on the ground. “Keep your head down.”

 

It did, and stared at her bare feet.

 

“The Asset is unstable around children since the Red Room. The Bloodchild has drawn its attention more than once. We can’t have that.”

 

The child’s Handler scoffed. “Then wipe it more often. I fail to see how proper discipline and more wipes can’t curtail disobedience.”

 

The scientist with the stun batons spoke next. “We can’t wipe it too often. It’s useless for ages.”

 

“Also, it soils itself and I really don’t feel like cleaning up again,” said the one who liked to stick his fingers up its anus.

 

It looked up again and met her eyes. It was struck in the back of the head for disobedience, then kicked multiple times for good measure.

 

“See what I mean?”

 

Her Handler frowned.

 

“Wipe it anyway.”

 

“Do you have the authority—”

 

“My work with the Bloodchild is testament to my authority. Wipe it.”

 

It was picked up and tossed into the chair. It opened its mouth, breath heaving as the mouth-guard was placed. The restraints clamped down and it leaned back, releasing a low whine. The chair powered up.

 

~

 

 

The incident with the man on the bridge happened and left its, no, his head in shambles. Things were slotting into place that didn’t make sense. He ran around with no directives, no orders, no basic understanding of what he was.

 

Of who he was.

 

The man called him Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. The museum repeated it. Gave him new information. Or old information.

 

His mind burned. His everything hurt.

 

The Soldier stumbled.

 

He peed himself because he wasn’t allowed to relieve himself without orders and that conditioning took time to break. Time he suddenly seemed to have. Warm showers terrified him because all he knew was cold. He didn’t remember to feed himself until he had a flashback to eating with a family who’d died years ago. He’d sobbed over a slice of bread in a motel bathroom, over the taste of something he chose to put in his mouth, and chew, and swallow. Over memories of people who didn’t strike fear into him that were probably long dead.

 

He still didn’t understand the tears and why that bothered him. The Soldier didn’t cry. The Soldier wasn’t allowed to cry. Yet it still did. He still did.

 

And then one day he woke up from a nightmare and he was _angry_. That was a _feeling_ that he—finally—was certain of. He found the drive to make his own decisions. Or perhaps he remembered what it was like to think something, and want it, and do it.

 

From then on he raided Hydra bases. Many were abandoned. Some were not. He liked the way their blood caked between the ridges of his arm.

 

Weeks out of cryo without a wipe had him further unbalanced. Memories peaked through the cracks in his mind and whispers of those long passed danced inside his head. Things continued to blur together.

 

The Soldier’s body was not operating at full capacity.

 

The man on the bridge plagued him.

 

_Bucky?_

_Who the hell is Bucky?_

_But I knew him._

_Bucky. You’ve known me your entire life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. I’m not gonna fight you. You’re my friend._

It did not make sense. The Soldier, he, was not meant to have a name. The man had been his mission.

_Then finish it. ‘Cause I’m with you til’ the end of the line._

 

Mission said his name was James. His Handlers called him Soldier, and Asset. The museum said what Mission said. His dreams also…said what Mission said.

 

The Handlers were always right. But what the Soldier saw, and the longer the Soldier was away from them, the less it seemed so.

 

It made him furious. Anger was easy.

 

The Soldier growled softly, sitting up from where he lay in an abandoned warehouse deep enough underground that no one heard him screaming but with enough exits that a quick escape was available should he need to evacuate on short notice.

 

His thoughts drifted to the child. Small, with dark skin and wild thick hair, and white patches on her skin. Memories of those small glimpses came back in bits and he wondered if thoughts of her were stronger because he’d probably seen her recently…or it was uncomfortable in her being used like he was.

 

Then, the Soldier had felt nothing but the desire to stare. Maybe that was something in its own right.

 

Now…

 

The Soldier didn’t understand feelings. Feelings were never required, or allowed. Mission made him feel things. Dreams and nightmares and…memories, made him feel things.

 

Thinking of that child with a Handler made him…feel things.

 

He stood up, head clearing as he formulated a new mission for himself.

 

Save the child.

 

~

 

The Soldier went to the last known HYDRA base he’d seen her in. Finding the Handler and child missing was no surprise. Nearly a simple setback. The Soldier was bred with the ability to track.

 

Three days of constant travel did nothing to wear on The Soldier’s mind. With a mission giving him purpose, the chaos was mostly left at bay to deal with later. It was a welcome reprieve. The Soldier did not require rest but this was still acceptable.

 

He arrived at a small wooden cabin at around 18:36 on the fourth day. He set up a small spot at an acceptable distance leaving his bag of guns and other raided supplies before observing. The cabin was well cared for, most likely kept up as a temporary camp should the handler had needed to escape. Two armed guards waltzed around the cabin in fifteen-minute intervals.

 

The Handler was paranoid, and justly so, but woefully under protected. The men were well trained but The Soldier was far above them in every capacity. He walked up behind one and snapped his neck, hauling the body over his shoulder and still managed to catch the other unaware, sinking a knife into his throat. Weak. A small gurgle was the only sound made but he knew it was of no consequence. The bodies were disposed of easily, set behind a tree.

 

From there he walked through the front door.

 

The child was cooking in the kitchen. She wore a white dress, ill fitted to her small frame, hair tangled, feet bare. He could hear the Handler pacing upstairs, screaming into a phone.

 

“I need to be moved to a safer location, how can you not understand that? The last thing I need are any authorities knocking down my door. There are CIA, FBI, hell, maybe even SHIELD remnants out for blood and I don’t want to be caught in the crosshairs! Not to mention the five bases that were wiped out!”

 

The Soldier listened, splitting his attention between the Handler and the child. She had yet to notice him, leaning up on the tips of her toes to stir the pot, only, she was terribly unbalanced. He moved forward and steadied the pot, using his flesh hand to cover her mouth and stifle her frightened scream. The mission was rescue, not rescue with injury. Her hands immediately went to his and he hauled her up and away from the stove carefully. Once set down, she moved quickly, shoving her body off and under his legs. He watched as she dove for a knife that was hidden under a small table and she positioned it on her wrist.

 

That was unforeseen. He did not understand. She would harm herself for protection?

 

Cold blue and bright red eyes clashed. Hers widened with recognition as they stared hard at each other.

 

“I am going to kill your Handler,” he finally said, watching her carefully for a response.

 

She blinked and cocked her head to the side, looking confused. He pointed upwards to where her Handler paced, still yelling on the phone. Her eyes further widened with clarity.

 

“What is your response?”

 

She stared up at him and the red in her eyes turned to dark brown. Odd. She nodded slowly and held the knife down at her side.

 

“You are to remain here. Harm will not come to you.”

 

She nodded again and wrapped her arms around herself. The Soldier surveyed her for a moment longer when a shout interrupted.

 

“Hurry up with my food, girl!”

 

The Soldier stepped back and moved quietly away and up the stairs. He followed the shouting to the end of the hall. The Handler was in a large bedroom facing a curtain-covered window with one hand on his hip. His phone was clenched in his hand while voice raised even higher in pitch has he shouted.

 

He failed to notice his presence so the Soldier took a moment to take in the room around him. It was well decorated as was the rest of the cabin. Various paintings were hung up, all the walls were wooded, and the large curtains did well to conceal the fact that the guards the handler had hired were no more. The bed in the room was large and…

 

A ruffled blanket on the ground beside the bed caught his attention. He knelt down, still avoiding detection as was almost always the case on a mission. He picked up the blanket with his flesh hand and examined various stains and holes in the fabric.

 

“Arseholes! I’ve helped HYDRA in ways no one else could and this is how I’m treated.” He scoffed, ending the call and tossed the phone back on the bed. The Solider stood back up and the handler gasped loudly and stumbled back against the window, nearly pulling down the curtain.

 

“Did they…did they send you to get me to safety?” the man asked hopefully, voice trembling towards the end.

 

They both knew the likelihood of that was slim at best.

 

“Is this where the child sleeps?” the Soldier asked instead. He placed the blanket on the bed.

 

The man before him couldn’t seem to find his words, eyes darting rapidly back and forth between the phone and the Soldier. “The Bloodchild? She sleeps where I tell her too. Sometimes on the bed, sometimes on the floor…”

 

The Soldier felt…. He stared down at the blanket and tried to work it out. Discomfort? Anger?

 

“W-where are the guards?”

 

“Disposed of,” he answered without hesitance. “Was she a slave? Your protector?” he paused, flesh hand opening and closing,

 

Tiny footsteps sounded from the down the hall and the child made an appearance, peering in.

 

“T-there you are, sweetie. Did you take some of the food for yourself? You’re well cared for, right? Tell…tell the Asset that you’re well cared for. What are some things I do for you? I feed you…I give you lots of things, like the blanket, right? What else?” the Handler asked desperately.

 

The Soldier looked down at the child. The knife was still in her hand.

 

She lifted up her dress and revealed various bruises on her chest, stomach, and thighs. She wore nothing under.

 

The Soldier was surer in what he felt. Definitely anger. Rage. He could work with that. He moved quickly and grabbed at the Handler’s neck with his metal hand, gears in the arm whirring as he moved from the window and slammed him into the wall beside it.

 

The Handler choked, hands moving to clutch at the arm. “P-please, she’s well cared for, please, what do you want? I have money, so much money, in a vault downstairs, or…do you…do you want her for yourself, perhaps, please, just please, don’t ki—”

 

The Soldier tightened his grip. He remembered hands touching him in places that he now understands he did not like. It…discomforted and angered him…the thought of a child…

 

He looked at her where she sat on the bed and stared with blank eyes. She fiddled with the phone, knife in her lap.

 

“Ca-call for help!” her Handler pleaded. She placed the phone beside her instead and stared.

 

His grip turned nearly crushing and he watched the Handler’s face and neck turn red, then blue, drool leaking from the corners his mouth. Tears fell as he struggled to breathe. His attempts to get free weakened until his arms fell loosely at his sides, fingers twitching. As his eyes rolled back, the Solider released him.

 

He immediately collapsed to his knees, gasping and hacking as he tried to breathe again.

 

“T-thank you, thank you,” he sobbed.

 

“What is her name?” the Soldier asked, interrupting him.

 

The look in the Handler’s eyes was enough. He didn’t know. He owned her and he didn’t know. The Solider reached forward again, “No, plea—”, and snapped his neck, tossing him to the ground.

 

The room was utterly silent as the Soldier turned to meet the child’s eyes. She stared back.

 

The mission was…complete?

 

He walked out of the room, down the stairs, and outside to where the rest of his supplies were stashed. The child followed him and stood shivering with her blanket wrapped around her and knife still in hand. He headed back into the house and she continued to follow silently. He watched her from the corner of his eye while he found the vault easily enough and rammed his metal arm through, yanking it open. There was plenty of currency from various countries, which he stashed, as well as a laptop and hard drive. The duffel was filled.

 

He stood up and shouldered the bag, ready to leave. Her dark eyes met his.

 

The Soldier _felt_ again. To leave now was not completing the mission. The mission was rescue. This was…abandonment.

 

“Come with me,” he finally said, the words tumbling awkwardly from his mouth. It was hard not to speak with commands, as those where what he’d heard the most. “Come with me?” he tried again, phrasing it as a question.

 

She stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” she said, and her voice was soft and timid.

 

“W-what is…your name?” he asked. He was running out of words. Talking was difficult. He wished it were as easy as killing.

 

She shrugged and pressed her lips together. He frowned, one at the thought of her too not knowing who she was, and two, that talking seemed hard for her as well.

 

Child then. He would call her Child. Temporary.

 

Child walked out of the vault to the stove where the food was burning. She went to turn everything off when he stopped her.

 

“We let it burn,” he said as he looked around, “All of it.”

 

Child’s eyes lit up. A sharp contrast to her huddled figure. He hoisted her up and she managed to wrap her arm around the back of his neck while keeping the blanket around herself. They both watched from a distance as the cabin slowly became engulfed by flames, and when it got too dangerous to stick around, both took solace in the smell of the smoke as they left.

 

Mission…in progress.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I wanted to see Civil War first before I wrote anything else for this. :) <3

The motel they’d ended up at was filthy. Filthy enough that the Soldier felt certain that proper records of its residents weren’t kept. It was an added layer of safety that kept his panic at manageable levels.

 

Child was seated on the bed and wrapped in her blanket. She held her knife carefully in her hands. The Soldier pondered the knife but left it alone. It was one of her three only possessions. The knife, the tattered dress, and the blanket.

 

He checked the room for bugs for the third time before settling down and booting up the stolen laptop. It was easy to bypass the security measures and because the Handler had been so rightfully paranoid, any outside attempts to infiltrate its systems would most likely be stopped or pointed out. Good. First he searched for news articles on the fire. It had taken two departments to put out the blaze. Three bodies were found. There were no suspects. From there he searched childcare. The Soldier knew nothing about caring for a child. He hardly knew how to care for himself.

 

Children required constant safe and stable environments. He could not provide that. Children required food in proper intervals and amounts. He could possibly provide that. Children required clothing. He could provide that. Children required love(?). The word made his head hurt. He’d come back to that later.

 

The Soldier closed the laptop. It was time to go on a supply run. Mission: Acquire adequate clothing for Child.

 

“Child.”

 

She looked up.

 

“Now that you are…aware…can you protect yourself?” he struggled. So many words.

 

She nodded.

 

“I will…return with…required items.”

 

She nodded again and hopped off the bed, placing herself in a corner that provided her with the best vantage point should anything happen. He approved and changed out of his tactical gear. He concealed his weapons and grabbed a tattered jacket and hat. He looked...less like a weapon and more like a person.

 

He nodded once in her direction and walked out.

 

There wasn’t much in the way of people. There was a diner, the motel they were in, and a few shops. From there it was miles to the next town. He walked into a rundown general clothing store.

 

“Hello there, sir! Anything I can help you with?” an aging man asked from where he stood by a counter. There was a shotgun hidden behind it. He has probably encountered violent individuals enough to purchase it. It wouldn’t be a problem though.

 

The Soldier shook his head and immediately headed to the back where he could see smaller clothing choices. He picked out dark colors in Child’s size. Black shirts, dark jeans. He faltered as he grabbed a few pairs of what was called Disney princess underwear. The one in the green dress closest to Child’s complexion. That would do. Another caused him to pause.

 

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. His head ached.

 

_A blond turned to him, blue eyes bright and striking._

_“The animation Buck! Do you see that!? It’s beautiful.”_

_“Yea punk, we all see it. We’re both in the theatre.”_

_The blond punched him. He laughed softly in response and leaned back to watch the way the light of the film flickered against his soft skin._

_He was beautiful all right._

The Soldier shook his head and took three deep breaths to maintain control. Delve into that moment later. Focus on Child now. The mission. Shoes. Child needed shoes.

He walked further into the store and found a small pair of sneakers. Where would he find combat boots suited to a child?

 

He paused.

 

The base where she was brought up in, perhaps.

 

Would that be the next mission?

 

The old man was watching him from up front. He could kill him and everyone in this town if necessary. Something sour churned in his stomach. It would have been better if he’d waited until nightfall but Child could not sit underdressed for that much longer. It was…a discomforting thought.

 

He brought his things up front to be paid for.

 

“Little thing had an accident, huh?” the old man asked as he scanned the items.

 

The Soldier nodded.

 

“It’s rough at that age. Well, at any age, really. Children are a blessing but not without hard work.”

 

He nodded again. The man didn’t seem bothered by his silent responses. They exchanged cash and he dug around in his drawer, pulling out a bar called Hershey’s.

 

“Maybe this’ll cheer’em up. I always keep ‘em for when kids roll through.” He added it to the bag.

 

“Thanks,” said the Soldier. That was what you said for a situation like this, right?

 

“No problem. Have yourself a good day, now.”

 

He nodded and exited the store. Mission was almost complete. Time away from child, 22 minutes, two of them lost to his mild flashback.

 

What did chocolate taste like? He allowed himself to ponder as he made his way back to the hotel. He glanced into the windows of the diner as he walked by and paused.

 

Children required food. Child had not been fed in the time they have been together, and her Handler was careless. Time last fed was unknown.

 

He stepped into the diner and immediately took stock of how many people, exits, and possible weapons were around him.

 

A tired waitress glanced his way and made her way over.

 

“Hey there darlin’. You sittin’ down or takin’ out?”

 

“Out.”

 

“Gothca.”

 

She led him to a stool and placed a menu on the counter. He sat down and looked it over with a growing sense of unease. This was…a lot of food. What did Child like? He glanced over to a mother and child sitting in a booth a few feet away. The child was eating something circular and flat and drenched in syrup.

 

Something in his head flared momentarily.

 

“Pancakes,” he muttered softly. They were called pancakes. He vaguely recalled the taste, and it was then he noticed his own gnawing hunger. He hadn’t eaten in days. The mission came first. The waitress walked over to him.

 

“Ready to order?”

 

“Pancakes.”

 

“We’ve double stack, triple stack, eggs, bacon, or sausage on the side…”

 

He paused. So many options. “One double, one triple, and…everything else.”

 

She nodded. “Shouldn’t be longer than twenty minutes. Coffee for your wait?”

 

“No.”

 

She went away and he took the time to people watch. The child in the booth with his mother was loud. Very loud. His mother, however, never scolded him, laughing at his wonder, wiping his mouth and hands, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He turned away and stared at the older man a few booths down. The man drank from his—the Solider took a whiff—coffee and looked down at a newspaper. When he lifted the paper, the Soldier caught a glance at the front page.

 

“WHERE IS CAPTAIN AMERICA?”

 

He went cold all over.

 

“Here you go, sir.”

 

He forced himself to calm, dropped two twenties, grabbed the bags, and made his way out.

 

“Sir, your change!”

 

“Keep it.”

 

The door slammed shut and the walk back was unusually exhausting. His breathing and heartbeat were heightened. The man on the bridge, Captain America, was a largely public figure who had recently aided in, from what he’d seen, toppling the government. And his world. If the public was calling for him and he wasn’t responding, he was in hiding. His seclusion was purposeful. Without public account of his whereabouts, the Solider could not properly keep track.

 

The man on the bridge had called him James. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. He had known him. He was familiar. People sought what as familiar, didn’t they?

 

He sped up and quietly made his way into the motel lobby where the woman manning the front desk was fast asleep. Good. The walk to the room was silent and he slid the key into the door. The moment he stepped in, something pricked at his throat and he froze.

 

Child was in front of him, knife in hand. Her wrist was slit, and the blood pooling from the wound protruded out and hardened like a slim blade. When she noticed it was him, the blood slithered back into the open cut, the skin melding back together leaving behind a reddened scar. The red in her eyes faded back to brown.

 

Bloodchild.

 

They’d called her the Bloodchild.

 

She dropped the knife and took a few frightened steps back. The Soldier simply watched her for a moment before moving to shut the door behind him and placed the bags on the bed.

 

“I have…required items. Clothing, food, and…chocolate,” he said quietly, taking all the items out.

 

She didn’t respond so he slowly turned around.

 

“I will not hurt you,” he tried.

 

Child looked back and forth between him and the food but still made no movement. The Soldier took a deep breath and stepped away from everything to a corner by the wall. She observed him for a moment before making her way to the bed to look through the things. Every few moments she would look back at him. He raised his hands in a form of surrender.

 

He would not hurt her.

 

After a few moments, she pointed to the food tentatively.

 

He nodded and she grabbed the smaller of the two containers, settling fully on the bed to eat. First she picked at her food. Then she devoured.

 

The Soldier slowly made his way over and grabbed his food. Pancakes. He sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall. He ate slowly, one to savor the taste, two to keep everything down. His stomach still ached after the meal regardless. As he wound down, from his first mission, he rescue, and the second mission, supplies, more pains made themselves known.

 

His head burned. His arm was heavy. He was…tired. He glanced toward the bathroom. Child should go first.

 

She licked the syrup off her fingers and turned to him for more instruction.

 

“Bath,” he mumbled. His head hurt more. Words felt clumsy in his mouth.

 

She went into the bathroom and shut the door. He heard the water start to run but the sound faded out. His body listed to the side and images burned across his mind like lightening. None of them made sense.

 

“Winter,” a voice called softly, and he blinked…awake?

 

He looked up. Child was standing a few feet from him in one of her new shirts and underwear. Her curly hair dripped onto the towel wrapped around her.

 

Winter?

 

“You know…what I am?”

 

“The Winter Soldier,” she answered quietly.

 

He didn’t have the strength to get off the floor yet. “Did your…h-h-handler t-t-t-tell you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Aftershocks rocked him and he twitched on the floor for a few moments.

 

“W-winter?” he asked, when he could speak again.

 

She didn’t answer.

 

“And you are…Child.”

 

He forced himself to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom. “Take the bed,” he told her, and slammed the door.

 

The scalding water of the shower made him hyperventilate because warmth was still unknown to him, and had never been allowed. Conditioning, he thought, and he shook and gasped in the tub.

 

_He wrestled the smaller male into the tub._

_“You’re filthy and you need a bath,” he spat. “You stink.”_

_The blond boy glared at him. ”So do you, after runnin’ around the park all day while I’m stuck in bed.”_

_“I wasn’t at the park. I was—”_

_“With a girl then?” the blonde interrupted, angry._

_“Yea, my damn sister.”_

_“Oh,” he deflated._

_“Yea.”_

_It was silent. “Stevie—_

The Soldier jerked out of the memory. The water falling on him was now cold and he felt more put together. His movements were mechanical. Exit the shower. Get dressed. Dry hair. Brush teeth. Clean up after yourself.

 

He opened the door to the bathroom. Child was asleep on the bed. The Soldier curled himself up on the floor and fell asleep.

 

~

 

He was awoken by Child’s cries. Soft sniffles muffled by her pillow. He didn’t know how to comfort her.

 

He sat up and she met his eyes.

 

Should he go to her? But then what? He needed to do more research. He was unequipped. His palm began to sweat.

 

She cried harder. He bit his lip and scooted forward until he was at the edge of the bed. He thought back to the mother who’d patter her child on the head in the diner. He couldn’t reach that far though, so he settled for her hand that was atop the covers. Slowly, her cries grew softer and softer.

~

They left early, about an hour from sunrise. The town was still and it was better that way. That and constant movement would give distance to whatever possible pursuers were on their trail.

 

The man on the bridge…Captain America. Was he looking for them?

 

They loaded up into a stolen truck. Child buckled herself in the back seat and he stacked their bags beside her.

 

She was back to no speaking, and that was a slightly comforting as he didn’t know what to say either. Just as he changed gears to drive off, he remembered the chocolate. He opened his mouth to say it but the words wouldn’t come, so he pointed at the bag instead.

 

She followed his direction and riffled through the mostly empty food bag and pulled out the bar. He watched her stare at it for a moment before looking down at the map he’d found earlier. As he formulated his new mission, he took stock of things that had happened thus far.

 

Child was rescued. Child had new clothing, was clean, and had food. Child did not have love(?) or a stable environment.

 

Child was no longer crying.

 

It was a list of good things and bad things. The wrapped crinkled as she removed it. A moment later, she tapped him. He looked over to see her offer half the bar.

 

He shook his head. It was hers.

 

She pushed it further in his direction. It started to melt from the heat of her fingers and he finally took it, staring down at it. He followed the lines of the bar and broke it into an even piece before slipping it into his mouth.

 

_“I got you somethin’ Stevie!_ ” _he yelled, running through the small kitchen into the open door of the bedroom._

_Stevie was small and pale, dwarfed by his covers. He opened his eyes weekly and smiled, face stretched thin._

_“Watcha got Buck?”_

_“A Hershey Bar! I helped Thomas with his paper run and he gave me some of his money for it!”_

_He presented the bar, opening it excitedly. Clumsy hands broke off a piece and placed it by Stevie’s mouth. It seemed to bring the color back to his cheeks._

_“Have a piece too, Buck.”_

_He took a large bite and both boys giggled._

_“It’s good, right?” he laughed—_

He blinked, the taste of chocolate fading with the memory.

 

It was. It was good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's alive!!!!!!

They drove for five hours and twenty-nine minutes before it occurred to the Solider that information about Child might have been released in the SHIELD leak. It startled him enough that he pulled the car over and opened all the windows.

 

What if they’d known about her ex-handler’s laptop? What if they knew he’d accessed classified information? Were they tracking him now? Would He show up with his team and grab them and lock them away?

 

The Soldier pushed his metal arm out of the open window and spread the fingers. He imagined feeling the sensation of the slight breeze against the joints. Slowly, he managed to calm himself.

 

They would have converged on him already had they the slightest clue where he was. Three things the world cared about right now based on snippets of articles and news reports he’d seen and heard: the whereabouts of Captain America, the fall of SHIELD and its HYDRA connections, and the man with the metal arm.

 

Him.

 

He clenched his metal hand into a fist. Then he glanced in the rearview mirror. Child was watching him. She blinked slowly, studying every movement. She was…afraid?

 

“I will. Not hurt you.” His words came out stunted and he sighed angrily. “I am…functional.”

 

She stared blankly at him in response. The Soldier didn’t know what to do next so he looked away and got back on the road.

 

~

 

It was another hour into the drive when Child began shifting in the back seat. The Soldier was immediately on high alert.

 

“Do you sense danger?”

 

She shook her head. The Soldier frowned. He had not exhibited any of the behaviors that had alarmed her earlier. Why the sudden discomfort?

 

_His eyes blinked open sluggishly. Stevie was movin' all over again._

_“Was wrong? Gonna vomit again?”_

_“No. Uhh…”_

_“Spit it out Stevie. ‘Fore I fall back asleep.”_

_No answer came and he was nodding off again when Stevie finally spoke up._

_“I gotta piss Buck. Real bad.”_

_Oh. It’d been hours since he’d come home and Stevie’d been laid up with the fever. He couldn’t walk._

_He felt like a real ass. Moving quickly, he scooped him up in the way Stevie hated but actually secretly liked and took him to the complex’s shared bathroom._

The Soldier came back to himself and it was testament to his programming that he’d been able to keep them on the road.

 

“Gotta piss?” he asked, borrowing the vernacular from his awake-dream.

 

She nodded.

 

They’d passed a sign for an upcoming rest stop a few miles back. The Soldier stepped on the gas.

 

Mission: Get Child to piss stop

 

Again he found himself relaxing into the familiar one-track mission mindset. He swerved around cars with steely focus. Five miles to go.

 

“Can you hold it?” he asked.

 

Pulling over and finding a spot in the open was not optimal for Child. The thought was discomforting. She nodded, bit her lip, and sat eerily still. It was with a focus that websites stated was normally difficult for children, but HYDRA knew how to burn out anything human and leave a mechanical stunted creature in its wake. Her body ceased to move but her eyes betrayed her desperation. Mission stakes were high. The Soldier paid no mind to any car that honked but still took care to look out for any highway patrol.

 

Finally the stop came into view and he swerved into the lane and screeched into a parking spot. Child looked distressed and the Soldier grabbed her, locked the car, and rushed inside.

 

A woman with three small loud children met his eyes and immediately pointed the bathroom in his direction.

 

“All the way down and to your right,” she said with a smile of understanding and kindness that confused the Soldier.

 

He nodded regardless and rushed her to the entrance. Child looked to him, knees knocking.

 

“Go,” said The Soldier, and she rushed inside, vanishing around the corner. A stall slammed shortly afterword and The Solider waited.

 

H couldn’t see her and that was a problem. HYDRA could have anticipated their moves, could have operatives waiting for her inside. He did not know the access points, couldn’t see them from where he stood. They could subdue her easily, be rid of any other civilians, and disappear. He couldn’t hear anything besides the steadily increasing white noise in his ear. His flesh hand began to sweat. The arm whirred softly, gears waiting to be commanded to recalibrate, to shift into approaching combat. His heart pounded unsteadily. His scars burned, his head burned, his chest burned—

 

Child reappeared and stood before him. She wiped her damp hands against her jeans and stared up at him, face blank in an expression he was beginning to find familiar.

 

The Soldier closed his eyes. The longer he was away from the chair, the more his mind fell to pieces at the thought of something going wrong. He would have been purged for his behavior. They would have welded their displeasure into his bones.

 

“Let’s go,” he said, voice gravely.

 

He took her hand in his, making sure it was the flesh one before heading towards the car. Then he paused. Children required nourishment frequently. It had been six hours and fifty-three minutes since her last meal. That needed to be corrected.

 

“Do you require food?” he asked her.

 

She looked up and blinked.

 

He would take that as confirmation. He looked around them. There was a Starbucks, a McDonalds, and something else called Pizza. He frowned. She tugged his hand to the McDonalds and he joined the line. The woman from earlier with the loud children was ahead of him.

 

“What do you guys want?”

 

“Nuggets!” they all yelled.

 

When they were next, The Soldier copied their order. One of the children turned and stared at Child. Child stared back.

 

“Why’s your face got spots?”

 

Child positioned herself out of sight behind the Soldier.

 

“Jennifer! What did I tell you about questions like that?” the woman scolded. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s fine, ”The Soldier found himself responding. He then did something puzzling with his face that seemed to reassure her.

 

They received their orders around the same time and walked out together. It was slightly discomforting. Prolonged contact meant it would be easier to be recognized if he was tracked down. He watched her place all of her children into some sort of chair with straps. He looked over at Child who sat on the seat bare.

 

Hm.

 

~

 

The town they pulled into was more populated than the last. They would deal with it. It was also relatively close to one of the bases referenced in Child’s ex handler’s files. Child tucked herself into his duffle bag. It was crude but necessary, especially with people still roaming about. Their check in was simple. Once in the room, The Soldier set the bag on the bed and Child crawled out. She sat on the bed and stared.

 

The Soldier set up the laptop. The data revealed that this base was a frequent stop for him and Child. The details of her experimentation were slim. Hopefully he’d find something more of worth during the raid. Child hadn’t spoken at all. Extracting information her was an uncomfortable thought regardless. She was still staring.

 

The Soldier got up and moved to the window, peaking through the curtains. It was later. The streets were clear. Time to get ready.

 

Off came his civilian clothes. A sense of calmness came over him as he strapped into his tac gear. This was what he knew.

 

“I’m going to the Roanoke base.”

 

Her head snapped up from where she’d started to doze off.

 

“You remember it,” he stated. There was no need to ask with the expression on her face.

 

“If anyone is still there, they will perish.”

 

She nodded and slid off the bed to join him.

 

“You want to come?”

 

The Soldier did not know much about children but he was almost positive this was not the norm. Bringing her to witness carnage…but she was not a normal child.

 

“Are you combat ready?”

 

She shrugged.

 

“I need to test your skills before I take you.”

 

She frowned.

 

“There will be more opportunities.”

 

Cut off one head…

 

That seemed to settle her. It was still a risk to leave her, but there was no one else to protect her. But the less of HYDRA there was, the safer they would be.

 

She would be.

 

“I will return through the back window. Use whatever means necessary to keep safe.”

 

Mission: Roanoke Base

~

 

 

One hour of surveillance revealed no movement from the outside. Not a flicker. That didn’t mean the inside was empty. It was hasty to move so soon after such minimal observation, but now The Soldier had Child waiting for him back at the motel. He made his move.

 

The trek towards the edge of the base was a simple one. Cameras were easily avoided and he climbed his was atop an empty observation tower. From there, the door was easily ripped open. The darkness around him wasn’t a bother and he made his way inside.

 

The Soldier’s steps were soundless as always. The hallways were lined with a layer of dust. Doors were ajar and the contents inside were in disarray. The base screamed abandonment. But still he searched.

 

Something was tugging at him. It was as if a cord was tied to his mind and pulling along. He followed.

 

He’d been here before. He stared down at the concrete floor. The heels of his feet had been scraped raw as he’d been dragged naked down the hallway. He’d watched through swollen eyes the way his blood leaked out and left a mess. He’d been punished for that too.

 

The Soldier followed the imaginary blood trail to a bare wall. A keypad disguised as a light switch was a few feet to the side. Gun in his flesh hand, he pushed the wall and it scraped open, helpless to the strength of the arm. He then stepped inside and took a quick glance around. A group of three stunned scientists stared back at him. A woman and two men.

 

“Who was watching the cameras?” one of them asked.

 

“It never tripped any of the alarms! And our extraction hasn’t been scheduled yet,” answered the woman.

 

“Soldat. Disarm yourself,” the last commanded.

 

The Soldier calmly shot him between the eyes. The other two scientist screamed as his body flopped to the ground. He looked toward them and they immediately raised their arms in surrender.

 

“Tell me about the child.”

 

“The child?” asked the woman nervously.

 

He shot her in the kneecap. She screamed as she went down.

 

“Oh God oh God oh God oh God,” whimpered the last man standing. The Soldier pointed the gun in his direction.

 

“The Bloodchild,” he spoke.

 

“I-I-I only observed. I don’t k-know anything.”

 

“False. Observation brings knowledge. Your purpose was to learn.”

 

He shot the woman in her other kneecap. Her wails were piercing.

 

“Shut up,” The Soldier snarled with a sudden startling anger.

 

She bit her arm in an attempt to keep herself quiet. He aimed his gun at the man again.

 

“W-wait. Okay. What do you want to know?”

 

“Name?”

 

“Bloodchild is all we were given.”

 

“Age?”

 

“W-we never got all of that when s-she arrived. The orphanage d-d-didn’t keep documentation. Or if it did it burned. No name, no age. Just it-her.”

 

“Guess.”

 

“Five? Six?”

 

“Her skin.”

 

“Vitiligo. S-she was like t-that before. Attempts to f-fix it didn’t work.”

 

Yes. The Soldier remembered that from their first meeting.

 

“Experimentation?”

 

“B-blood. We altered her blood. S-she can command it. B-but we don’t k-know everything. T-this wasn’t her main base. W-we n-never had the staff.”

 

“Staff?”

 

“Loki’s scepter. That’s what the b-bulk of her s-s-s-uccessful experimentation came from.”

 

Loki’s scepter?

 

“Explain.”

 

“I-I don’t understand.” He began to weep.

 

“You were in cryo.”

 

The Soldier turned his gaze to the woman where she’d dragged herself to the wall and sat, body propped up crookedly. She stared at him with dazed and watery eyes and her skin was pale from blood loss.

 

“He wasn’t in the organization yet. He can’t explain that part,” she gasped out.

 

“Then he is of no use.” The Soldier turned the gun to him.

 

“Please, please don’t, please—”

 

His body fell to the floor beside his dead companion. The Soldier turned his attention to the last. He walked over to her and slowly knelt so that they were eye to eye.

 

“You didn’t need to do that. He was young,” she whispered.

 

“So is Child. What is the scepter?”

 

“While you were asleep, there was an alien invasion. Loki used that staff to do a multitude of things. We managed to get our hands on it and use it for experimentation.”

 

“Where can I find it?”

 

“I don’t know. That was classified.”

 

She clenched her eyes in anticipation of a bullet. He was tempted to roll his eyes.

 

“What of the other children?”

 

“She was the only survivor.”

 

He thought back to the sounds of their cries as they’d been shackled together in that van.

 

“Where is her main base located?”

 

She hesitated.

 

“Speak or I will rip the remainder of your legs off.”

 

“Nevada! Her base was in Nevada!”

 

He nodded. Then he walked over to one of the computers.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

 

“Initiating self-destruct.”

 

The countdown started.

 

“Please,” she begged, “Please don’t leave me here. It’s a liquefying gas. Please.”

 

He stared at her in wonder. The Soldier had never received a positive response when begging in HYDRA’s grasp. Why did she think he would spare her when he was taught to ignore?

 

He left and took strange satisfaction in her sobs as he moved quickly out and away from the base.

 

The explosion was oddly freeing.

 

~

 

 

Child was on his mind. The town was silent as he made his way back to the motel. A closed convenient store caught his attention and he paused on his journey. Disabling the alarms and cameras was simple enough. What he needed was at the front. It was an easy grab. He was in and out and back at the hotel within the next five minutes. He climbed up through the back window and tapped on the glass. Child peered cautiously through the curtains, knife in hand. She set it down on the windowsill and opened the latch.

 

Child then stepped back and looked him over. He did the same.

 

“Was there trouble?” he asked.

 

She shook her head. The Soldier removed his mask and goggles and set them on the table. Her eyes remained on him.

 

“Tomorrow we will go somewhere and I will evaluate your abilities.”

 

She nodded. He watched her for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the bar of chocolate. He held it in her direction. Her expression was something other than blank as she reached for it. Something lighter. She took a seat on the bed before her small hands tore into the bar and broke a piece off. She then broke that in half and handed it to him.

 

It was then he realized he hadn’t eaten all day. Tomorrow then. He joined her on the bed but kept his distance. They chewed in companionable silence. Child seemed more relaxed.

 

Mission complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no cure for vitiligo. HYDRA are assholes like that.


End file.
